


Touch

by WingcommanderArthurShappey



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Skipthur, naughty Skipthur, oh ho ho, there's nothing to see here just mindless Skipthur porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingcommanderArthurShappey/pseuds/WingcommanderArthurShappey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch has always been Arthur's best sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madnina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnina/gifts).



Martin's lips pepper Arthur's skin with wet kisses, like little warm raindrops. There's nothing hasty in it, or in the way Arthur slides his hands under the cottony softness of Skip's shirt and lets his fingertips ghost across hard, slender ribs. The sheets are cool around them, and they slide and rustle against Arthur's side as he slips the woolly jumper over his head and settles back down, his mouth searching for Skip's and finding it in a sweet, lingering kiss.  
Skip's breath flutters a dreamy sigh against Arthur's cheek as he turns his head to let Arthur nuzzle his neck. Short, ginger little stubbles scratch Arthur's nose as it bumps clumsily against Skip's jawline, and Skip joins in on his giggles. His fingers send white little fireworks across Arthur's spine as they tighten in his hair and pull him in. He tastes Martin's freckles on the tip of his tongue as he works his way down the side of his throat and rests his chin in the soft little spot where Skip's neck joins his shoulder, and he feels the hum of Skip's moan in his eyelashes, a thrilling little noise that makes Arthur laugh with pleasure.  
  
Skip's heartbeat, hot and heavy, quickens its pace beneath Arthur's lips when he closes them around a warm, small nipple and sucks fervently, and then Skip's hands clamp down around Arthur's face and tilt up his head, holding on to his chin as their mouths slide together once more. There's nothing gentle about it now. Martin's fingers dig sharply into Arthur's shoulders as he pulls him up and against him, so flush that Arthur can't even feel the tingling of fuzzy little hairs between them. His hands sneak down to hold Skip's hips and fiddle with his belt, and Skip seems to get the message because he draws back and undoes several buttons, his knuckles making frantic little movements from where they're rested against Arthur's belly. And then there's a sharp tug and a bit of a squirm and Arthur can feel the tender skin of Martin's bare thighs under his palms.  
  
"Good idea, Skip!" he whispers, and his lips curl into a mindless little smile. He shifts and turns a little in an attempt to get rid of his trousers, and Skip yelps.  
"Ow! Arthur, you kicked me!"  
There's no real pain in his voice, and when Arthur leans in to cup his face in his hands, he feels Skip's cheeks twitch, trying very hard to suppress a smile.  
"I thought you said you _liked_ it when I'm a bit rough with you!"  
"I _do_ , but please try to keep your legs to _yourself_ , Arthur!"  
"Okay," Arthur lies and gently worms his now-naked knee into the snuggly warmth between Martin's thighs, pressing up a little until Skip grabs the sheet and moans. "But what if I do _this?"_  
Skip doesn't answer, but he bites down on Arthur's shoulder, very softly, as if nibbling on a cracker, and it feels brilliant, like little sparks exploding all over Arthur's skin. After a while, they kiss again, and their teeth knock together with a sharp little _click_ that doesn't sound like a dolphin at all.  
"I knew it was a bad idea to do this with the lights off," Skip complains, and it's the last thing he says for a long time. The next thing he says is "oh".  
  
Their hips are pressed tightly together, and Arthur's hands slide down to stroke Martin's perfect little bum. It arches up into his palm as if it belongs there, and maybe, he thinks, maybe it does. Arthur can feel Skip's heart beat in body parts that aren't his chest now. His knee still rests snugly between Martin's thighs, and the heat between them is growing as their hips slide together. Arthur can feel the tenderness of Martin's skin, and it's like being enveloped by rose petals.  
  
There's so much softness in Skip, his lips, his hands, his bum, his legs, and also so much hardness in the way his hipbones nestle up into Arthur's palms, in his nails as they rake across Arthur's arms, and in his prick, pressing warmly and urgently against Arthur's stomach. Skip fits against Arthur's chest like he was made for it.  
Arthur loves these moments beneath the coolness of the sheets, when he can feel Martin's breath hitch in his throat, when he can make him twitch and arch and squirm, and when they spread wetness across each other's cheeks and necks with their kisses. He loves when he can feel the fond cautiousness fade into something more urgent, until Skip's grabbing fistfuls of Arthur's hair and making him moan, and Skip starts throbbing against him and Arthur's name tumbles from his tongue and he slumps down into Arthur's arms where he belongs.  
He loves the waves of heat rolling through his body, like sprinkles of happiness, and he loves feeling Skip's sleepy kisses on his chest when he comes.  
  
There's so much stickiness between them when it's over, but everything is warm and cosy, and they don't bother to get up and take a shower. They fall asleep with Skip's lips pressed against Arthur's chin, their noses nuzzled together, and the last thing he feels is the way Martin smiles into their embrace.  
The morning after, there will be soft kisses on tiny swollen bruises and bite marks, and an awful lot of hand holding. And then the slippery wetness of a shower, and catching Martin's mouth in the dizzying spray of hot water. Skip's back will ache from the way Arthur's wrapped himself around him in his sleep, but it'll be a nice ache.  
  
It's a good thing, Arthur thinks to himself as he slowly drifts off, with his fingers curled into Martin's smooth, silky hair, that touch is his best sense. He wouldn't want to trade this for anything in the world.


End file.
